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by jasondean



Category: Heathers (1988), Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe
Genre: (also mentions some sexual events), (mostly fluff though), Abusive Parents, Angst, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-02
Updated: 2015-10-02
Packaged: 2018-04-24 10:06:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4915336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jasondean/pseuds/jasondean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's not good enough, never good enough. JD doesn't deserve her, but he can't let her go.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home

                His gaze rests on her face, the trace of a smile on his face as he takes note of her slightly parted lips as she catches her breath, her flushed cheeks, the color of her eyes in the darkness of his room… JD isn’t much of a romantic, but he wants to stay like this forever, breathing in the scent of her perfume and their sweat mingling together and the warmth of her body against his. Comfort is something foreign to him. He makes the worst out of the most casual of gestures and sees enemies in the shadows. He puts on an image of sleek composure that comes from his smirks and his dry humor and even his posture, but inside he’s fighting a war. Veronica is the only person aware of his daily battles, attempting to soothe and comfort him when so many turned a blind eye before her. She stays even when he gets distant, even when he’s stuck having an attack in his room, unable to take her out.

                He thinks it was about sex at first. Well, no, not thinks… He’s sure. JD didn’t fall for the dorky girl who stared wide-eyed as he beat the shit out of two of the school’s most obnoxious jocks, nor the girl whose awkward laugh filled the empty 7-11. Looking back, he loves the starry-eyed look and the silly, nervous habits she developed around him, but he saw it as just a schoolgirl crush. JD experienced it before with girls from his old high schools, all swooning over the bad boy, the one who couldn’t be pinned down by any girl, couldn’t be pinned down by any place.

                She looked _hot_ , even after struggling with his window and clumsily tumbling into his bedroom. Her skirt was hiked up from the climb, her socks’ length uneven and knees scraped, her thick hair messy and windblown. The look of longing, the lust in her eyes, it was like a punch to the gut. She was fantastic. She _is_ fantastic. He had to follow her to Heather’s, to make sure the girl that showed him so much passion, so much _strength_ ,didn’t walk out of his life forever. He lacks sometimes in compassion, in empathy, in lots of emotions and his grudges run deep and dangerous. Veronica, beautiful Veronica, she brings him back down, keeps him sane for the moment.

                _This is something,_ he’s thinking as his hand rests on her cheek, his thumb moving in lazy circles as she gives him a curious look. She’s more than a girlfriend, he tells himself. Their love is on another plane of existence, otherworldly.

                “Our love is God,” he whispers to her, and she laughs. The sound is music to his ears.

                “What does that even mean?” she asks him, her smile resting on her face.

                He’s unable to come up with anything more. He thought she would understand. They’re different in that way, he thinks. Maybe that’s best.

                Instead his hand forms to cup her cheek and he leans in, brushing his lips against hers. Veronica was never a fan of teasing or beating around the bush, he knows, and he laughs a bit as he attempts to pull away with just the sad shadow of a kiss.

                “You’re such a dummy,” she says. She tries her best to sound annoyed, but the smile on her face is as wide as the day they first spoke. Veronica immediately pulls him back to her, the kiss she initiates almost harsh as to scold him for trying to get away with less.

                JD’s hand snakes from her face to the back of her head. His slender fingers play with her hair and as their lips move against each other, eyes closed but knowing where they move and land exactly, like they’ve done this a hundred times before. He takes a risk, making a move that would surely end badly with anyone else, lightly taking her bottom lip between his teeth. A sigh escapes her. He pulls back, letting his teeth lightly graze her before letting go, resting his head next to hers.

                “Hot or not?” he asks, amusement making his eyes twinkle.

                “Hot. Definitely,” Veronica admits. “God,” she says, shaking her head.

                “What?” JD asks raising a brow. _You’ve fucked up. You’ve fucked up everything with her. She hates you and it’s your fault,_ a voice tells him, but he pushes it away to the back of his mind where it’s lied dormant for the majority of the night.

                “I love you.” She says it in a soft voice on the edge of a whisper, a smile playing on her lips.

                Oh. She means it.

                He opens his mouth to say something but his throat’s dry, like the words are stuck in his throat.   _Just say it, just say it, you fucking idiot, say it._ He loves her. He does love her. But he can’t force the simple phrase out of his mouth, can’t make his lips move right. _I. Love. You._ His voice doesn’t work.

                He closes his mouth stupidly, the look on his face alerting Veronica to the wrong idea, like he doesn’t feel the same. The hurt look on her face kills him a little, and he wants to hold her to him and trace his fingers over her stomach and her thighs, taking time to twist tendrils of her hair between them, and tell her yes _he loves her, he loves her, he loves her._

                She clears her throat, sitting up and pushing off the comforter. “Uhm, I guess, I’ll just… I’m just going. Yeah,” she says in a cold, unsure way that catches JD off-guard. A wall has formed between them in those few moments and he can barely watch as she dresses and attempts to open his window.

                “Can’t ever get this fucking thing open,” she mutters, her irritation and hurt finally leaking into her voice. JD gets up and pulls on his boxers, walking to where Veronica struggles with the window.

                “Not from the inside, mm?” he says, trying to lighten the mood but failing miserably. She doesn’t give him the security of a reply, just waiting with her arms crossed over her chest. He finally pushes the window up, allowing Veronica to slip out easily.

                And that’s it. No kiss good-bye, no see you at school, no nothing. JD watches her disappear, the night cloaking her as she treks back to her own house. He flops back onto his bed, not even bothering to pull the blankets over him as he falls into a sleep, receiving the first nightmare he’s had since his mother’s funeral.

* * *

 

                The next day is hell.

                JD wakes up at 6 AM to the sound of the television being blasted much too loudly in the living room, which only means one thing. On the day where he has to face his probably very angry girlfriend, he is graced by his father’s presence. _Fan-fucking-tastic,_ he thinks as he gets dressed. Dark pants, button-down, and his black trench coat. No surprises from his wardrobe today.

                He makes his way downstairs, wishing the door that lead out could be reached without passing through the living room. He walks in, seeing Big Bud Dean watching the news. The anchor recites the destruction of the ancient library that no one uses, and his father lets out a laugh. JD can’t help but wrinkle his nose.

                “Hey, Dad!” Big Bud Dean says in a mockery of his son’s voice as he notices the teenager passing through.

                “No hangover this morning, huh?” JD says, in no mood to play their little game. After not getting a response, he sighs, and attempts to recreate his dad’s voice. “I’m surprised I didn’t wake up with a hangover this morning,” he tries.

                “Don’t you remember, you had work yesterday, Dad,” his father says. “You got home early enough to hear me and my girlfriend banging away!”

_Oh, ew…_

                JD quickly exits the room and then the house, his horror and disgust melting away when he finds himself in front of his school. Right. Facing Veronica after he failed to tell her he loved her. Maybe just staying in his room all day would have been better. No, no, that wouldn’t work. He can’t keep away from her for so long. He can’t move away without seeing her face again.

                It’s worse when he sees her. She says nothing, not even attempting to greet him or even give him a smile. He’s staring at her across the cafeteria as she sits across from Heather Duke and Heather McNamara, talking animatedly about something. _She’s telling them everything. She’s laughing about you. This is what you get, Jason, for trying with people,_ the voice sneers, and he can’t push it down.

                He stays home the next day. His dad is still alcohol free, getting some sick high off watching tapes in the living room TV over the library blowing up again and again. He’s back in Texas again as the noises of the explosion reach his ears, back to being a cowardly twelve-year-old boy who cries for his mommy when things go wrong. His dad beats him that day for not going to school, and his dad is out the next day making arrangements for the next deconstruction and then to the bar. JD avoids Westerburg again, and instead obsesses over trying to hide the bruise on his cheek, thinking of what Veronica would say if she saw it.

                The third day, nothing happens. He goes to school with a layer of cover-up that his mother left behind and that he occasionally uses to cover injuries clothes can’t hide, but he isn’t good enough with the makeup and people stare. He’d been so good at Sherwood, finally figuring out his dad’s pattern, and he had to screw it up. _Like everything you do._

                The fourth night, there’s a tapping on JD’s window. It can’t be her. There’s been no official break up, but how _can’t_ you break up with a coward who can’t say he loves you? He ignores the rapping on his window until it becomes unbearable, and he gets up to snap off the branch that’s scratching at the window. He’s clad only in his boxers, his dark hair a complete mess as he squints out the window, making out the figure of a girl in the moonlight.

                JD pushes the window up and stands back as Veronica climbs in, stumbling a bit as she hits the ground. “Oh, it’s one of those nights, huh?” he says.

                “I’m not drunk, JD,” Veronica sighs, brushing off her skirt. “I came to talk. One-on-one,” she says, sitting on his bed and patting the space next to her, looking at him expectantly.

                He groans, knowing what’s going to happen. It’s official. She’s going to leave him forever, she’s finally been scared away. JD sits next to her, the cheap mattress sagging a bit under his weight. He turns to her, watching her, wondering if he’ll remember the heartbreak in the morning.

                “Whoa,” she says with wide eyes, her hand moving up to touch the bruise on his face. The moonlight has hit his face just right, showing her the ugly colors, the concealer most likely only fooling her. “JD, what the fuck?”

                “Good ol’ dad,” he explains, flinching away from her touch. “Whatever. Lay it on me. It’s not you, it’s me…” he begins, gesturing for her to finish the sentence.

                “What? No, God, JD, I’m not breaking up with you,” Veronica says, shaking her head at JD’s confused expression.

                “Oh,” he says, dumbfounded.

                “I just… I’m sorry,” Veronica apologizes, tears filling her eyes. He moves his hand to wipe away her tears trailing down her cheeks, but remembers they’re (silently) fighting, still, that the walls he constructed is still blocking him and he lets his arm fall to the bed lamely.

                “I… I uh, I don’t... Really… I’ve never done this before,” she finally says.

                “Me neither,” JD admits.

                Shock flashes across Veronica’s tearstained face, but only for a split second. It’s all a part of the façade, he wants to tell her, to convince everyone around him he’s got more experience than he really has, to project a weird sort of confidence people admire but fear.

                “So. I guess, it just slipped out, too early, and I… You know, I just…” she rambles, stringing together the first words that come to her mind and she stops making sense. And JD realizes somehow she thought _she’s_ the fuck-up. It almost brings a smile of relief to his voice.

                “I love you,” JD says, shutting Veronica up. “I love you,” he repeats more confidently, nodding his head.

                “Why didn’t you say it before, though?” she asks after wiping away her tears and returning the phrase.

                “The last person I said that to is six-feet under,” JD says, the dark words coming out nonchalantly from his mouth. It makes Veronica cringe, and she understands everything that happened those painstakingly awkward moments that night. She murmurs something, not an apology, because she can’t change what’s happened, but it soothes him and she’s in his arms and it all feels natural.

                There’s no sex. It’s not like the first night, where she broke into his room and demanded the world from him with alcohol on her breath and fire in her eyes. It’s peaceful, it’s comfortable, it’s natural, it’s everything he never knew could happen.

                He wakes up before her, watching her as she sleeps. It’s still dark out, and he should wake her soon so she can go on back home, but he steals a few moment, mouthing the words: _I love you._ She’s more than his first girlfriend. She’s his best friend. She’s home.


End file.
